


Doctor, Detective, Iceman, Virgin

by shinkonokokoro



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinkonokokoro/pseuds/shinkonokokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John had ignored what Mycroft said at the Palace. But found that he couldn't really keep it out of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor, Detective, Iceman, Virgin

Doctor, Detective, Iceman, Virgin

Sherlock Holmes was violently a virgin.

One might not think this possible. It was, however, in fact, true. John could see it more and more now that the oversight had been made to be seen. And while he wouldn’t want to admit that it had begun with The Woman, John was really quite sure that it had.

And as feelings began to blur the line between friends and something... _ more _ , the idea of Sherlock Holmes and his virginity twisted around in John’s mind more frequently than he could account for. 

What fuelled those thoughts was the fact that Sherlock Holmes didn't touch people. That actually wasn't quite true. But he only touched as a last resort. Never something genuine. Out of a desire to encounter the warmth of another person. Unless it was Mrs. Hudson. But Mrs. Husdon was the only one who ever received any sort of kindness from Sherlock's physical touch. And John didn't think Sherlock liked Mrs. Hudson like that. God, he hoped not. She was more like a mother than anything else, claiming a certain ownership for them that entitled worrying and fussing. But the fact that he touched John, and touched John rather frequently and quite liberally, gave him hope. So, being, over all, a patient man, John waited. And waited. And then waited some more to see if Sherlock would notice. 

He didn't. 

So when he touched himself at night or in the morning, he became less subtle about it and let his gasps and moans be a little louder than flatmate dignity required. Sherlock never said anything the next day, but he tended towards more frequent furtive glances at John. And John...well. If he was more smug that day, so be it.

So when the day finally came when their lips crashed together, John gave a low throaty groan. it startled Sherlock back, however. "No, no!" John grasped his waist, keeping him close. "This is good. it means it's good," John explained. He smiled at him, guiding him backwards onto the sofa. 

"I haven't..." 

"I know." John leaned in and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's neck. He was rewarded by a small shudder. "Good?"

Sherlock nodded, brow furrowing. 

Pressing more kisses to his neck, Sherlock shuddered again, squirming beneath John. He smiled against Sherlock’s collarbone. And he’d hardly even begun to do anything. “Are you sure?” John asked softly, biting down softly.

“Yes, John. Just... Get on with it,” Sherlock said through grit teeth. Looking at him, his eyes were squeezed shut as if in pain. But he unbuttoned Sherlock’s shirt and pushed it aside to press more experimental kisses down his chest. More buttons and he was able to tongue at Sherlock’s navel. A high-pitched whine floated out of Sherlock’s throat as he squirmed beneath John.

“All right?” John asked again, breath gusting against Sherlock’s hip where he nibbled the skin.

“Christ, John! Just get o—ah...! Ah!” He twisted and arched his back as John pressed sucking kisses along the sparse trail of hair to the base of Sherlock’s cock.

John grinned, nuzzling the crease of his thigh. He’d not been shy in his admiration of the man. And now... John couldn’t wait for more. But he enjoyed teasing him, since this was one area where he was more skilled than Sherlock. And he especially enjoyed it when Sherlock was already near-panting for it. He undid his flies and yanked them down Sherlock’s legs before pulling his pants down to free his cock. “God, love... you’re gorgeous. I can’t believe you...”

“Stop...stop praising me and get on with it!” Sherlock ordered sharply, groaning as if in pain when John took an experimental lick at Sherlock’s prick.

“You sure?”

“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be doing it!” Sherlock snapped, face flushed brightly, eyes glazing over. “Or do I have to take care of the problem myself?”

“You wouldn’t,” John said with a low chuckle.

“John!” Sherlock snapped, the word almost a whine as his head fell back, exasperated. 

“Could you...?” John wondered aloud in a sudden fit of curiosity. “Have you...” He lifted a hand off Sherlock’s hip and waved a hand over his crotch. “Have you ever gotten yourself off?”

Sherlock’s face flushed more as he glared at John.

“You haven’t....” he murmured breathlessly. “You’ve never had an orgasm? You’ve ne—”

“John!” Sherlock folded an arm across his chest, the other draping over his face. “If you’re going to poke fun at me, then it’s best if we cease this immediately.” 

John’s heart clenched. He pushed Sherlock back down when he made a move to get up and cover himself. “No. If you want to, I want to. I mean, I want to. If you still want to. And I’m not...” He ducked his head. “I’m not poking fun, Sherlock. I just... I’m sort of amazed, really.” Eyes raking over Sherlock’s body, John took in the flush spreading down his neck and chest, limbs trembling only slightly. Cock slightly deflated in the face of Sherlock’s embarrassment. He licked his lips. “I want to...to give you this,” he said, voice dropped low.

Sherlock lifted his arm, looking at John, face blank. Some of the tension left his limbs and he sighed heavily. “Very well,” he said grudgingly. 

John ducked his head so Sherlock wouldn’t be able to see his smile and bent to cup a hand around Sherlock’s prick, stroking it lightly until it was hard enough to stand straight. Then sucked a mark onto the inside of Sherlock’s thigh, brushing his thumb over the head of Sherlock’s cock.

“John...” Sherlock gasped, back to squirming and pushing his hips up in wordless begging.

"You doing alright?" John asked, blowing cool air over Sherlock's cock. 

Sherlock keened, body twitching. "O-oh fu-uh-uh...!" 

John grinned and closed his mouth over the head of Sherlock's prick, suckling gently. Sherlock gasped, eyes flying wide, hands clamping down on John's shoulders. "John. John. John."

"Alright, love?" he purred, pulling off. 

Sherlock shuddered, a thing that took hold of his whole body, sweeping through his limbs. The man grit his teeth and shut his eyes again. Took a steadying breath. “Yes. Yes, go on.”

John tilted his head with a small frown. “Alright...” Sherlock didn’t seem to be particularly enjoying himself, even if his prick was fully hard in John’s mouth. But he took him deeper anyway and sucked hard.

Arching, Sherlock cried out. “Ah—again!”

John did. He licked and suckled and laved and swirled his tongue and hollowed his cheeks hard. Sherlock squirmed and groaned and cried and keened and shouted and gasped and moaned and trembled beneath him. But didn’t come. John’s jaw was getting tired. Sherlock was still hard in his mouth. Was leaking onto his tongue. He pulled off with a sigh and stretched his jaw. Sherlock whined, hands twitching on John’s shoulders. “Do you not like it?”

Sherlock blinked at him, blue eyes darkened with want, fuzzy before they finally focused in on John. “Wh—yes. It’s... it’s...good. Why did you stop?”

“You’re not orgasming...” John said, voice rough. “So I’m wondering if I’m doing something wrong.”

“No,” Sherlock rasped. “No, it’s good. Better than...” He swallowed, shivering slightly. “It’s good, John.”

“Can you orgasm? Doesn’t your prick hurt?” John asked, confused by what was going on.

“Well considering I haven’t done it before,” Sherlock snapped, flushing deeper.

“What are you feeling?” John asked, ignoring Sherlock’s prickliness, thumbing his cock and giving it a firm stroke. He watched Sherlock grit his teeth and grip the sofa so tightly he heard the fabric creak. “Sherlock—”

“ I don’t  _ know _ , John!” he gasped, body tense and thrumming with pent-up energy.

“Sherlock,” John said gently. “Let go. You’ve got to just let go. Stop trying to control it and just let go. I’ve got you. It’s fine.”

“I don’t like it,” Sherlock said tightly. 

He blinked. “Don’t like what?” He ran a hand soothingly over Sherlock’s hip, sliding up to tweak a nipple.

Sherlock huffed. “That feeling. It’s like...u-uh...” He trailed off as John gave his prick another tug. “I... the sensation is most pleasant. But the...building pressure. I...don’t like.”

John bit back his chuckle. “That usually just means you’re about to orgasm... It’s alright. You can.”

“ I  _ know _ **** I can!”

“Shh, shh. Relax. I’m not making fun. You want me to continue?” He licked at the head of Sherlock’s prick again. “You have to let it happen. Just relax,” John said softly. He sat back. “Here. Maybe this will help. Sit up.”

Sherlock looked at him, frowning. 

John settled himself on the sofa, widened his legs. “Come sit. Right here.” He tugged at Sherlock and wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s chest, splaying his hand low on Sherlock’s belly. Running his other hand down Sherlock’s chest and kissing the back of his neck. “Maybe this will work better...”

Sherlock shuddered and nodded. “Alright.” And then exhaled, relaxing against John’s chest.

The pressure against his own cock still inside of his jeans felt good. And Sherlock between his legs meant he could rock against his back. John stroked Sherlock snug and long, twisting his thumb against the ridge of his cockhead on the upstroke. Sherlock panted his name. “Good?”

“Yes. Good. Good, John. Good.” Sherlock was stuttering his hips up into John’s hand, his own gripping John’s thighs. “O-oh... I can... I can feel you...” he moaned. 

“Good,” John murmured against the back of his neck, biting down gently. Sherlock cried out, so he laved his tongue over the spot and did it again. “Come on then, Sherlock. Come, love. All over my hand. Go ahead. You’re amazing...” he murmured. And four pumps of his hand later, Sherlock finally did come bucking hard and crying out loudly and babbling wordlessly through it. Gripping Sherlock’s waist harder, he ground into his lower back twice more and came himself. In his pants. 

Sagging back into the sofa, John just breathed a few moments. “Well.”

“That was...good...” Sherlock said. 

“That was the hardest I’ve ever worked for an orgasm...” John snorted. Felt Sherlock flinch in his arms. “No, no, love. It’s fine. I’m... I’m flattered it was me. What did you think?”

Sherlock sighed. “It was satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory!”

The man snickered and twisted his head to look at John, a mischievous grin on his lips. 

“You brat,” John accused, laughing. “You utter brat.”

“Can we do it again?”

“Oh yes. Just... Not right now.”

“No... I don’t think I could handle another one so soon.” Sherlock fell silent. “It was...”

“Hm?”

“It was easier with you holding me. I think,” Sherlock said, “next time you should be over me. So I can drown in you,” he continued drowsily.

John swallowed, prick aching to stir again so soon. “Oh God...” he said roughly. 

“Problem?” Sherlock said archly.

“No. No, not at all. No problem. That’s... that’s fantastic.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Yes. I rather thought so. Now I need to get clean. This is disgusting.” John rolled his eyes, grunting as Sherlock pulled away from him and strode towards his room. “I’m going to shower.” Paused in his doorway. “Would you care to try to break your record already?”

John looked at him, brow arched. Was on his feet in seconds. “God yes.”

 


End file.
